


missed connections

by starksnack



Series: wrapped in red [6]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Based on a Tumblr Post, Fuck Canon, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Mechanic Tony Stark, Meet-Cute, No Beta, Subways, because I said so, we die like warriors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22110154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksnack/pseuds/starksnack
Summary: Steve sees a cute brunet on the subway every day.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: wrapped in red [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619926
Comments: 13
Kudos: 172
Collections: POTS (18+) Stony Stocking 2019





	missed connections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hundredthousands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hundredthousands/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [hundredthousands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hundredthousands/pseuds/hundredthousands) in the [stony_stocking_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/stony_stocking_2019) collection. 



> This fic is based off of the lovely [art](https://hundredthousands-art.tumblr.com/tagged/my-art) by hundredthousands who this fic is for. You deserve the world <3

The subway is always packed to capacity during rush hour and by the time Steve gets on, there’s barely room for his shoulders, let alone his canvas bag as he squishes up against a multitude of other commuters.

Steve turns to face the window, apologizing as he smacks the woman beside him in the face with his bag. He winces at her glare, shooting her the widest smile he can muster. He’s exhausted and it pulls at his shoulders as he stares at the blackness outside the window. He’s waiting for them to pull in to the next stop, anticipation already rushing through his veins as he bounces on the balls of his feet, high strung with tension.

There’s a loud screech as they jerk to a stop at the next station and Steve watches like clockwork as a small brunet races across the platform from the turnstiles to the other train pulling in to the station. Steve doesn’t know his name, but he cuts it close every evening, somehow managing to make the train every single time Steve has seen him,

He’s beautiful, bright brown eyes that he hides behind sunglasses most days. Steve thinks he might be a mechanic considering he’s seen motor oil streaked across his neck and hands, but he’s always wearing a three-piece suit and expensive Italian loafers which scream businessman.

Today, he’s got a donut between his teeth, briefcase in one hand and pastry bag in the other as he sprints across the platform to the train. He’s wearing a dark red suit that sends arousal swirling in Steve’s belly, black shoes shined and beard trimmed to perfection. The watch around his wrist looks expensive and Steve wonders for probably the millionth time why this guy is taking the subway.

Steve has always wanted to get off the train and talk to him, see what makes him so late all the time, why he’s always rushing. But he always looks like he’s in such a hurry and Steve wants to get home in time to start dinner for him and his roommates because if he doesn’t he’ll be forced to eat greasy takeout that his stomach probably won’t agree with.

The doors of the other train close around the brunet’s form and Steve sighs, his shoulders slumping as his own train starts back up, heading toward his apartment in Brooklyn. He’d had a good day at the Veteran’s Affairs office. Leading group therapy helped him come to terms with aspects of his own deployment and Sam, who was now his roommate, had done wonders helping him and his best friend Bucky adjust to life now that they weren’t in a warzone.

After work, he had gotten some time in at the studio, finishing up a couple of paintings for a gallery next week. Though to be honest, he could finish his paintings at home too. He only stayed in the city longer because it meant he could take the later train home that allowed him to catch a glimpse of the brunet at the train station.

The next day goes by slower, his thoughts straying to the brunet from the train station while he’s trying to do his job. He’s distracted at work and Sam shoots him knowing looks all day before he heads home with a wave to Steve. Steve clocks out just after he leaves, closing up the office with a bounce to his step. He’s excited on the way to the studio where he’ll spend the next hour painting before he has to catch the train home.

Watercolours splash across Steve’s fingers as he paints, murky browns and striking blacks. Pulling his brush across the paper, Steve finds himself painting the train station, the brunet painted in stark reds in the center of the page, crimson tinted sunglasses perched on his face. Steve usually sells his paintings, but he’s probably going to keep this one. With an albeit dreamy sigh, Steve smiles at the painting, waiting for it to dry as he glances at the clock. 

Steve doesn’t know what comes over him on the train home. Maybe it’s Bucky constantly telling him he needs to make a move before he gets older or that lady at the VA’s office who keeps asking him when he’ll finally settle down and get married. It probably has a lot to do with the painting sitting in his canvas bag, barely dry when he had packed it up in a rush to catch the train. All he knows is that he rushes off the train at the brunet’s stop, running across the platform to intercept him with his heart in his throat.

Tapping on his shoulder, Steve’s breath catches as the brunet whirls around. His sunglasses are on his head, long lashes framing beautiful eyes that are a mix of coffee and emeralds. His hair is a fluffy chocolate mess, brown curls falling into his eyes as he looks up at Steve. They’ve only met for the first time but Steve feels like he’s known these eyes all his life.

Steve still has no clue what to say.

“Hi, my name is Steve.”

That works.

The man shoots him an adorably confused look but smiles back. “My name is Tony.”

Behind him, the train doors whoosh shut, both of their trains leaving them on the emptying platform. The man looks at the receding tail lights but doesn’t seem all too concerned about missing his train despite the fact that he sprints across the station for it every day.

“Sorry I made you miss your train,” Steve scratches the back of his neck. Can I buy you a coffee to make up for it?” It’s a shot in the dark, to be honest, Steve is absolutely positive that he’s going to get turned down, but at least he’ll be able to tell Bucky that he worked up the courage to try.

Tony grins up at him, eyes bright and glittering. “I’d like that a lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on [tumblr](https://starksnack.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/starksnack/).


End file.
